


The Gospel of Luke

by Eiiri



Series: The Gospel of Mathew [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Ableism is a Thing, Bisexual Matt Murdock, Blind Characters, Blue Poweraid tastes like Blue, Catholic Guilt, Catholic Matt Murdock, Coming Out, Dark but Funny, Father Lantom is a Cool Priest, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Gayngst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Matt Murdock Angst, Matt Murdock Makes Friends, Matt Murdock Needs Jesus, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt Murdock is Bad at Feelings, Matt Murdock is Bad at Relationships, Matt Swears He's Straight, Matt is a Jerk, Matt is a Liar, Matt is oblivious, SO MUCH TEA, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Shinto is a Real Religion, There is Life Outside Hell's Kitchen, Unhealthy Relationships, but they're working on it, love is blind, not so secret anymore, sex happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9504446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: Matt had screwed up a good thing.  Now he's got a second chance, if he can get his act together.(Sequel to The Gospel of Matthew)





	1. Chapter 1

One day the week after Easter found Matt, Foggy, and Karen standing around their central office room, talking about the utter bullshit that their recent trial had been—they'd lost, it was a mess, they were moving for an appeal. There were footsteps outside, then the doorknob squeaked as it was turned. Matt stopped talking the moment the door opened and the familiar wash of candle smoke and sawdust, sandalwood and tea hit him, but he could tell by the stillness and sparked pulse of the figure in the doorway that it was too late, Luke had recognized his voice. A moment of silence stretched through the office. Foggy cleared his throat. “So,” he said slowly, gesturing superfluously between Matt and Luke, “I'm gonna go way out on a limb and say you two know each other.”

“Well,” Luke gave half a breathy, near-hysterical laugh, “I think so. But I can't exactly _see_ to recognize him.” He tapped his cane pointedly against the doorframe.

“Matt,” Foggy drew out the name; Matt heard Luke's breath stall. “Do you know this man?”

Matt shrugged awkwardly. Foggy sighed at him. “He shrugged.”

“If you're not who I think you are, why won't you talk?” Luke challenged coldly.

Matt cringed.

“Because he's an idiot,” Foggy provided. “Can I do anything for you or are you just here for him?”

“I didn't know he was here.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, releasing a waft of sandalwood into the air. “I'm doing research and had a legal system question I can't really Google and—seriously, you're a lawyer? What the fuck?” The last thought was clearly directed at Matt, who bowed his head and did not respond.

Karen's watch ticked; the room was still enough for everyone to hear it.

“The two of you clearly need to talk.” Foggy rubbed his hands together—they were drier than usual. “Should Karen and I go….?”

“No,” Luke said quickly. “You stay, keep him from bolting.”

“I'm really not sure how we'd stop him, but okay.” Foggy shrugged and sauntered over to stand in front of the window. “Matt, would you like to contribute to this conversation?”

“Not really.”

“Well now you have,” Luke barked at him. “And now that you have: You're a fucking _lawyer_?”

Matt rubbed his temple. “Yes, I'm a lawyer.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?” Luke kicked the door shut.

“Why wouldn't he be allowed to be a lawyer?” Karen asked, confused.

“I think he means the masked parkour,” Foggy said over-brightly.

“So you _do_ know about that?” Luke asked.

“Yes,” the other three responded as one.

“Good,” Luke growled. “I can be blunt then.” He stalked across the room and reached out to indelicately plant his hand on Matt's face. He paused. “Since when the fuck do you wear glasses?”

“They're sunglasses,” Matt quickly took them off and set them on Karen's desk behind him.

“Why are you wearing them inside?” Puzzlement had, at least momentarily, subsumed Luke's anger.

“Matt,” Foggy's voice had gone threateningly smooth, “does he not know?”

Matt felt Luke stiffen via the hand still on his face. “What don't I know?” he asked warily.

“He's-”

“ _Foggy.”_ Matt pushed Luke's hand away as he bit out the warning.

“-blind,” Foggy finished spitefully.

Luke recoiled as though continued contact with Matt would physically burn him. Karen's teeth clicked as she snapped her jaw shut to prevent herself from speaking.

“You never thought,” Luke hissed, “that you should maybe mention to your blind whatever-the-fuck-I-am-to-you that _you're_ blind? Which I definitely would have fucking noticed if I could fucking see!” He flung his cane across the room; it struck an already tottery pile of books and knocked them over. Luke flinched away from the sound, bumped into and tripped over Matt's feet. Matt caught him but he shrank away again as soon as he was stable.

“When _exactly_ do you think would have been a good time for me to tell you, huh?” Matt asked. “I just climbed up your fire escape after running around on rooftops—oh, by the way, I'm blind as a bat.”

“How about when I was asking you about your favorite color and all that shit?” Luke snapped.

“What I told you is true. I haven't always been blind, I remember colors.”

Foggy cut in before Luke could snipe back, “Your lawyer is showing, you pedantic asshole.”

“Shut up, Foggy, this is your fault!”

Luke grabbed Matt by the lapel. “Excuse you, it's _your_ fault you never told me. He just did what you should've done months ago.”

“ _Months?_ ” Foggy repeated. “Matt, how long were you hooking up?”

“Since September.” Luke released his grip on Matt's jacket in the form of a shove.

“We _met_ in September,” Matt corrected. “Nothing happened until October.”

“October was six months ago,” Karen pointed out. “You've been together for half a year.”

“I ended it in February,” Matt ground out through his teeth.

“Out of nowhere like a total dick the night before Valentine's day, yeah, you ended it,” Luke scoffed.

“I did that to protect you!”

“You told me to my face that you had made a huge mistake by getting involved with me and that it never should have happened. That's not what you say to somebody you're trying to protect.”

“I'm bad at relationships.” Matt kicked at the leg of the desk.

“He is actually really shit at relationships,” Foggy said. “But, Matt, dude, dick move.”

“I'm going to make coffee,” Karen announced suddenly. She headed for their dinky excuse for a breakroom. “Coffee sounds good.”

“I prefer tea.” Luke was still seething in Matt's general direction.

“We have tea.” Karen set about making hot drinks.

None of them spoke. The air conditioning hummed, the pipes rattled faintly under the rush of the faucet as Karen ran water, Luke tapped his foot anxiously then took a breath. “I can't deal with the awkward quiet thing.” He shook his head and scrubbed his fingers through his hair with another puff of sandalwood. “If you're blind, how the fuck do you do the parkour vigilante bullshit?”

“This is exactly why I didn't tell you.” Matt ran a hand over his face; it was barely past lunchtime and he'd shaved that morning but he could already feel the stubble coming back, not that anyone else could tell. “I can't _see_ , my eyes don't work, but my other senses are above average—”

“Understatement of the decade,” Foggy muttered.

Matt ignored him. “—so, despite the fact that I do have some legitimate handicaps, my awareness of the world around me is actually greater than most people, sighted or otherwise. This, of course, makes me a freak, so just to be treated with some degree of normalcy I have to act blinder than I am. I took advantage of the circumstances under which we met to, for once in my life since the accident, interact with someone without doing that, to act at the level of ability I actually have, so sue me.”

“'Take advantage' is exactly what you did. Advantage of me.”

“I didn't mean to.”

“Well you did.”

“I didn't lie to you—”

“Maybe not directly but you did a whole hell of a lot of lying by omission.”

“When would I have told you?!”

“I don't know, some time before you force-quit our relationship!” Luke shouted over the sputtering growls of the old, Goodwill begotten Mr. Coffee.

“We didn't have a _relationship_ ,” Matt spat. “We weren't dating or anything.”

“You broke up with me—dumped me actually. You can't dump somebody you're not dating.”

“You didn't even know my name!”

“You never told it to me! You discouraged me from asking!”

“Well, maybe that was for a reason.”

“I miss you!” Luke screamed. He sucked in a sharp, shaky breath. “I miss you. I think you're a jackass, but I—fuck it, I think I love you. I'm pissed at you for being a jackass, but,” he took another breath and the tang of salt touched the air, “I miss you and I love you and I just want—I want you to come home to me again, and drink tea and blue Poweraid and stupid pretentious glass bottle soda, and bitch about my cat, and—” His next words stuck in his throat, he snuffled, clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob, and hunched his shoulders as he cried.

Karen returned in a strongly scented cloud of coffee and ginger chai, set the carafe on her desk, pressed the mug of tea into Luke's hands, and steered him into a chair. She rubbed his shoulder then squared herself. “The two of you,” she said firmly, “need to stop yelling at each other and start talking _to_ each other because you've both been saying some extremely telling things I don't think either of you have noticed.”

Stunned, Matt lowered himself onto the edge of the desk. He had to remind himself to breathe. Luke took rattly breaths between sips of tea. Foggy leaned against the wall with a heavy whuff and ran a hand over his face.

“We are all going to take a deep breath,” Karen instructed, “I am going to moderate, and this is going to turn into a civil fucking discussion. Put on your courtroom manners or I will get us a talking stick.” She picked up Luke's cane and leaned it in the corner next to Matt's. “Can we all do that?”

Luke nodded, sloshed a drop of tea onto his shirt, and made a wheezy noise. Foggy nodded quietly. Matt took a breath. “We can do that.” He hadn't meant to whisper.

“Okay, good.” Karen sighed and rolled the tension out of her shoulders. She touched Luke's arm gently. “Can I ask your name?”

Luke took a couple deep breaths before muttering, “Luke Tallwater.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke. I'm Karen Page. This is Foggy Nelson and that's Matthew Murdock, who is apparently your ex….” Luke dipped his head over his tea. Karen waited for someone to speak. When no one did, she prompted, “Matt, in fifty words or less, why don't you explain why you broke up with Luke?”

Matt shook himself, felt around behind him for his glasses, and fiddled with them. “Nobody is going to like my reasons, but, for one: I didn't want him to get hurt and I was worried that continued involvement with me would put him in danger.”

“That is a valid concern, even if you handled it badly,” Karen said. “Protectiveness is not inherently a bad thing.”

Foggy snorted. Matt twirled the arm of his glasses between his fingers. “And, if we're being completely honest,” he faltered, shrugged, and finished, “I'm Catholic.”

Foggy raised his hand.

“Yes, Foggy?” Karen said.

“Let's talk about the crush who shall not be named.”

“Let's not,” Matt countered. He put his glasses on.

“Foggy,” Karen said coolly, “we are trying to _not_ cause any more shouting. And Matt, you haven't hit your word count yet. Elaborate.”

Matt curled inward, shoulders tight, and made a rough noise high in his chest. “I'm Catholic, and he's a _he_.”

The Mr. Coffee gave a belated hiss in the next room. Karen's watch ticked.

“Are you ashamed?” Luke asked quietly.

Foggy raised his hand again.

“You aren't allowed to be incendiary,” Karen warned.

“I'm not gonna start a fire, I'm just going to point out that this isn't a totally unprecedented thing. Matt has had a crisis of se— _identity and faith_ before. And his solution was to hide it way in the Narnia zip code back of the closet and pretend it never happened.”

“And make you promise to never tell anyone about it,” Matt said with an air of deep betrayal.

“That vow has been overcome by events, man.”

Matt gripped his hands together hard enough to restrict the bloodflow to his fingers. Luke rubbed his thumb along the lip of his mug. “That doesn't really answer my question.”

“Yes.” Matt gripped his hands even tighter, enough to hurt. “I'm ashamed.”

Luke made a small, pained sound, followed by several shallow breaths, warding off more tears.

“Not of you,” Matt added quietly.

“Then of what?”

“That I'm...attracted to you.” Matt knew he was barely audible but couldn't bring himself to speak any louder.

“ _I'm_ attracted to _you_ too,” Luke noted.

“You don't exactly make a secret of the fact that the Bible isn't your rulebook.”

Foggy made a sound of distaste at Matt but refrained from voicing his thoughts.

“So it's fine for me to bang you, but not for you to bang me?” Luke asked.

Matt shrugged and shook his head with a sigh. “That's the gist, I guess.”

“What the actual fuck?” Luke sounded exasperated and tired. “That's one hell of a double standard for something that takes both of us to happen.”

Matt made an incoherent sound, pushed his glasses up, and dropped his face into his hands. “I don't know.”

Foggy raised his hand again. Karen gave a short, exasperated sigh. “We're not in class, Foggy.”

“Yeah, but when you say 'talking stick' I hear 'hitting stick' so I'm not gonna risk it.” Foggy shrugged. “Uh, Luke, yeah, so 'you can do it but I can't' is about the best you're gonna get from him sometimes, just saying. It's a thing he does. He's one of those less irritating Catholics who doesn't hold everybody to Catholic standards.”

“It takes two to tango, though. Cliche, but true.” Luke set his mug on the floor.

“It's complicated,” Matt said more sharply than he'd meant it. He sighed and sat up. “But when your God tells you not to do something, _you don't do it_.”

“So I'm not religious,” Luke began, “but I did take a religion class, and I'm pretty sure all the no tattoos, no fabric blends, no guy on guy rules got voided when Jesus died for our sins.”

“Like I said, it's complicated.”

“Okay, I'm gonna steer this away from religion,” Karen said, “because Matt has definitely stopped listening.”

“No I haven't,” Matt defended.

“Yes, you have.” Karen shook her head—her hair swung as she did, giving off a vaguely citrusy smell. “Luke, why don't you explain how you feel?”

“I am hurting,” Luke said crisply. “I am hurting because someone I care very much about either doesn't trust me enough to talk to me, or doesn't care about me enough to talk to me. And I can't tell which. The fact that I can't tell just makes it that much worse.”

“I already told you I was just trying to protect you.”

“And I already told you that's bullshit.” Luke slid down in his chair.

“Matt,” Karen said with carefully cultivated patience. “I think we all know that protecting him, though a valid reason, was not your main reason. At this point you're using it as an excuse and you don't get to hide behind it. As for the whole you're Catholic and he's a he issue, how about we all just agree that the forces that be—be they God or the Flying Spaghetti Monster or who cares what—clearly wants the two of you in a room together because out of all the law offices in New York that Luke could have wandered into for research help, he showed up here. He showed up here while you're actually here, Matt, and—as my pad of messages for you will attest—you're pretty much never actually in your office during normal business hours.”

“I agree with Karen,” Foggy said. “The godless heathens are declaring divine intervention.”

“On behalf of the pagan,” Luke muttered, darkly amused.

Matt frowned, less than sure he could contest that. Awkward silence stretched again. Foggy slipped into his own office. Karen poured a cup of coffee and wandered after Foggy.

“So, what now?” Luke asked. “I am supposed to pretend I never ran into you, still don't even know your name and all that?”

Matt sighed. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I don't know.”

From the next room, Foggy interjected, “He doesn't have any work he has to do tonight.”

Matt sighed again.

“You know what?” Luke stood. “We're going to dinner.”

“Are we?”

“Yes. We are going and getting good, cheap Italian because we are New Yorkers and we can do that and I am completely sure that I cannot bring myself to voluntarily walk out of here without you.”

“Okay then.” Matt picked up his cane, passed Luke his own, and opened the door. “I guess I'm going to dinner.”


	2. Chapter 2

The back corner of Amici's Italian smelled of bread, garlic, and slightly charred cheese. Heat radiated from the old fashioned brick oven, the warmth welcome in the early spring chill of New York. The ice machine growled, the soda fountain spat and fizzed, and in front of it, people's shoes gave reluctant little squelches on the sugar sticky floor. A college baseball game ran on one television, a telenovela on the other, the volume turned down on both of them, too low for most people to hear—especially under the 1980s Canadian prog rock pumping through the speakers—but Matt knew the score and which of the Ramirez brothers had gotten Luciana pregnant. It was easier to follow the game and the drama than think about the fact that _he was on a date_ with the man sitting across from him, quietly eating pizza.

“Aren't you hungry?” Luke asked after a while.

“Sorry.” Matt picked up his own pizza. “Luciana's marrying the wrong Ramirez brother. It's distracting me.”

For a second, Luke didn't respond. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“There's a telenovela on one of the TVs.”

“Oh.” Luke paused. “You can hear that? How can you hear it over the—what is this song about? Trees?”

“I have really good hearing.”

“Obviously.” Luke took a bite of pizza, chewed, then asked. “Aren't telenovelas a Spanish thing?”

“I speak Spanish.”

“I took four years of Spanish in grade school and all that stuck was the names of food and a few animals, and how to ask for a bathroom.”

“But you speak Japanese.”

“I'm half Japanese.” Luke picked a pepperoni off his pizza and ate it. “Grew up speaking it with my mom.”

“Makes sense,” Matt said.

They finished their food and then went out of the restaurant into the evening chill of the street. Luke pulled his jacket closer around him. “So this was...nice,” he said. “I figure you need to go home and, I don't know, do lawyer-y bullshit or crack down on muggers or something, but you'll call me, right?”

The uncertain hope in Luke's voice raked Matt's heart. He rubbed at his jaw. “Why don't you come home with me?” he said before he could psych himself out. “I've been to your place, so now you come to mine?”

“Really?” Luke's pulse quickened.

“Sure.” Matt hesitated, then took Luke by the elbow. “Come on.”

Matt heard Luke's heartbeat jump again and felt his skin heat. He was probably also grinning like an idiot. Matt decided to ignore what his own heart was doing.

When they got into Matt's building, Luke asked, “We're actually using the door?”

“Yes,” Matt indulged a grin as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “We're using the door.” He led Luke inside. “Uh, here, I have coat hooks.” He carefully took Luke's hand and placed it on an empty hook.

“Thanks,” Luke said softly. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up, then paused a moment before hanging his cane with it while Matt did the same. “Show me around?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Matt took Luke by the arm again and walked him through the living room and kitchen area, letting him feel where things like the couch, the stairs to the roof, the bedroom door, and the counter were.

“Big place,” Luke noted, lingering by the counter, fingers running over the row of various jars and vases. “I think my whole apartment would fit between here and the stairs.”

“Not quite,” Matt said. He cast around anxiously. “Can I get you something? A beer—actually, no, you're tiny and asian and I don't want to deal with you drunk right now. Some tea, maybe?”

Luke shook his head. “Can we, just…?” He reached out toward Matt cautiously. “I miss you.”

Matt sighed. “Yeah.” He took Luke's hands—skin soft, fingers graceful and slender as ever—then pulled him into a hug and petted his thick, silky hair, longer now than he remembered it being. Luke's arms fastened themselves around Matt's ribs, under his blazer, and he rested his head on Matt's shoulder. Matt could feel Luke's breathing against his neck, his fingers curled in the back of his buttondown, hear his heart beating beneath his ribs, smell the scent of his skin—still familiar even after a month apart. “I missed you, too,” he admitted quietly.

Luke turned his head to press his face into Matt's chest and took a deep breath. “You're a fucking asshole, but, goddamnit, I'd rather have you around than not.” He tightened his grip on the back of Matt's shirt.

“I know.” One arm around Luke's shoulders, the other hand on his hair, Matt tipped his head back and sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“For unceremoniously dumping me?” Luke bit out. “And not bothering to tell me—”

“Yes, for both. For everything. I'm sorry.”

Luke released his hold on Matt and pulled out of his embrace just enough to take the taller man's face in his hands. “My best friend hates you, you know.”

Matt frowned. “Why?”

“You hurt me. She's protective. She thinks you're bad news and a worthless piece of shit I'm better off without. I want you to prove her wrong.” He leaned up to kiss him. “I want _us_ to work, Matt.”

“I can't promise that,” Mat said quietly.

“Do you give a single solitary fuck about me?” Luke asked sharply. “If not, I can make myself leave.”

“No, no, I do,” Matt assured him. “I'm not good at this, but I do care.”

“Then you can fucking try to be better.”

Matt chewed his lip then nodded. “I can try.”

“Good.” Luke sounded relieved. He leaned against Matt again.

They stood together like that for a long time, until Matt jostled Luke's shoulder and murmured, “Bedtime.” Luke hummed his assent and let Matt lead him to his bedroom, where he sat on the edge of Matt's bed to kick off his shoes, socks, and sweater. A thought struck Matt as he changed out of his suit. “Is your cat gonna be okay with you here?”

“She knows how to turn on the faucet and she's got food. I got one of those automatic pet food dispenser things on sale. Seemed like a good idea with how weird my theatre schedule gets,” Luke explained. “Thanks for thinking of her, though,” he added softly.

Matt made a noncommittal noise, went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and lay down.

Luke cuddled up to Matt's chest and reached out to run the sheets through his fingers. “These really are silk, huh?”

“Yeah, they are.”

Luke laughed and wrapped his arms around Matt's neck. “So, you're tall and angsty, living a double life, and you actually have silk sheets. Obviously you've walked out of a romance novel.”

“If you say so,” Matt muttered.

“I do say so.” Luke kissed him warmly. “I definitely say so.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Matt with him. Matt caught himself on his elbows to prevent himself from squashing Luke. When Luke made to kiss him again, he allowed and carefully returned it. Luke's hands slid over his shoulders and down his back. Things grew more heated. A brush of thigh gave Matt a jolt and he started to pull away but Luke grabbed at him. “ _Please_.”

Luke's single, desperate, half-breathed word stilled Matt.

“Please, Matt,” he whispered. “I miss you.”

Matt took a breath, sat up, and reached to yank open the drawer of his nightstand. “Okay.” He took another breath. “Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

Matt smacked his alarm clock until it stopped squawking. Luke groaned sleepily. The two of them lay still a long moment. Luke yawned and shifted so he wasn't laying on his arm. “I have a question,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Do you open your eyes when you wake up?”

Matt chuckled softly. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.” Luke hid his face against Matt's skin. “And usually immediately regret it. 'Cause, y'know how your eyes feel all prickly when you're not really awake.”

“Mhm.” He nuzzled Luke's hair.

“Why do we do that?”

“Habit?”

“Must be.” Luke cuddled even closer. “It's a stupid habit.”

Matt freed himself from Luke's koala impression and got up. “Do you have class?”

“It's Thursday?”

“Yeah.”

“No. But I've got rehearsal at six.”

“Okay, well, I'm going to shower.”

Luke dragged himself to his feet with a yawn. “I'm gonna rummage through your kitchen.”

“I think there are waffles in the door of the freezer,” Matt said as he shut himself in the bathroom.

Luke found the waffles. And the toaster. And Matt's address book on the counter in front of the toaster. When Matt came in from showering, Luke said through a bite of waffle, “I couldn't find your plates so your waffle is still in the toaster.”

“Thanks,” Matt said and fetched his waffle.

“So…,” Luke began, “when can we see each other again?”

“I don't know. I've got a lot of stuff—work, and, uh, my nightshift, and church. Maybe Saturday.”

“Right, right. I've got a queer, Catholic, vigilante lawyer,” Luke huffed. “Of course you're busy, with a combination like that.”

“I'm not queer.”

Luke snorted. “You fuck me so hard I see colors I don't remember, don't even try to—”

“I. Am. Not. Queer,” Matt growled.

“Okay, okay.” Luke stepped around the end of the counter, feeling for a cup. “But you're sure as hell not straight.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“What? I—”

“Get _out_.”

Luke stood completely still for a long moment. “Fine.”

He stomped out into the hall, grabbed his jacket and cane, slammed the door behind him, and proceeded to tap things unnecessarily hard with his cane as he made his way out of the apartment building onto the street. He'd gotten less than a block by the time his anger had fizzled into frustration and hurt. He took a deep breath, leaned against the nearest building, fished his phone from his pocket, and dialed the number he'd texted himself. It rang four times before the line picked up and a slightly confused sounding Foggy answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Luke. I got your number out of Matt's address book. He sort of threw meout of his apartment a minute ago and he seemed mad but he was _fine_ just a minute before that—awkward, but _fine—_ and then out of nowhere he was angry and telling me to get out and I think I must have done something to upset him but I have no idea what I did wrong and fuck I want to try to actually make shit work with him and this is a really bad start to that.”

“Okay, first of all, _breathe_.” Foggy sighed. “Where are you?”

“About a block from Matt's building. I think I smell coffee.”

“Are you still on Matt's side of the street?”

“Yeah.”

“Cross the street. There's a Starbuck's on the corner. I'll meet you there. We're like six months behind on bro-bae commiseration.”

 

Once he got to the Starbuck's, it didn't take Foggy more than a moment to spot Luke tucked up in one of the brown leather armchairs in the most secluded corner, curled around a still mostly full cup of coffee that he was holding with both hands, looking morose behind blue mirrored sport glasses. Foggy shouldered his way carefully through the nine-a.m. coffee rush, set his bag down next to the other chair, and sat. “Hey, Luke.”

“Hey,” Luke said quietly.

“Alright kiddo, spit it out: what'd he do this time?”

“Nothing. Other than kick me out.” Luke scrunched down further into the corner of the chair. “It seemed like a prompted kicking out, though, but I don't know what I did to prompt it.” He huffed, sipped his coffee, and made a face. “I didn't put enough sugar in this….”

Foggy stretched to reach the lids-and-things stand and grabbed a few packets of sugar, which he dropped in Luke's lap. “Well, start about five minutes before you got kicked out, what was going on?”

Luke shrugged, tore open two sugar packets, and dumped them in his cup. He patted the table next to him until he found his lid and the stirrer sitting on top of it. “We were just talking. Not even really about anything. I asked when we could maybe go out this weekend and he was like, I dunno, whenever I can fit into his busy schedule of trial-prep, church, and, uh, parkour.” Luke stirred his coffee fiercely. “And I made some joke about it being one hell of a weird combination that he's a queer, Catholic, uh, parkour-doing lawyer. Then he said he's not queer, which is bullshit, I think I of all people would know if he were straight. And I _know_ he's dealing with the whole Catholic guilt and shame and gloom thing but—”

Foggy groaned and rubbed his forehead.

“What?”

“You used the Q word.”

“I—what?”

Foggy leaned his elbows on his knees. “The thing about reclaiming a word is that the way you know it's been successfully and completely reclaimed is that no one thinks of it as an insult anymore. Matt is living proof that the word queer hasn't really been reclaimed yet. He is super touchy about the word, to the point that the line from that song in _Nightmare Before Christmas_ makes him kinda glare-y for a couple seconds. My personal theory is that somebody used it derogatorily a lot when he was a kid. Dunno, haven't asked him. It's great that you're comfortable with it, every person who doesn't give a shit is a step toward reclamation, but it's best to avoid calling just about anything queer around Matt. Especially Matt himself, despite any and all supporting evidence for the description.”

“Oh. Well, shit.” Luke put his coffee down. “I should apologize….”

“Maybe, yeah.” Foggy shrugged. “I just shrugged. If you apologize, it should only be for not thinking. He can be a little...extreme. Throwing you out seems like an overreaction. He's kinda prone to overreaction, but he _knows_ he is and it doesn't make it okay for him to be a dick just because it's one of his personal idiosyncrasies.”

“No, it doesn't,” Luke agreed quietly. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I really, _really_ like Matt. I want so bad to figure out how to make _us_ work. But, I had sort of been letting him walk all over me and I patently refuse to keep letting him do that. It's not good for me.”

“No, it's not. It's not good for anybody. Matt can be a manipulative jackass; it's part of what makes him a good lawyer. It has the nasty side effect of he can be somewhat emotionally abusive to those closest to him, without realizing that he is. He also tends to distance himself from people and freeze them out and convince himself it's for their own good. Me and Karen have been trying to get him to be better about that but it's still an issue.” Foggy sighed and shook his head. “Matt's my best friend and I love him, but dude needs way more therapy than anyone could ever convince him to go to.”

“I've noticed,” Luke muttered darkly, picking his coffee back up. He drank the last of it. “Do—do you think it's even worth me trying?”

Foggy made a long, ponderous, noncommittal sound. “Depends on how bad you want him and how much shit you're willing to go through to be with him. If you're just making yourself miserable, then no. But I think he does actually care about you, so you just might be able to motivate him into dealing with some of his own toxic bullshit for your sake. God knows he won't for his own.”


	4. Chapter 4

Caroline coughed, having half-choked on her iced coffee. “You did _what_?”

Luke ran his hands over his face. They were sitting around his apartment after rehearsal for _The Crucible_. He shrugged and shook his head. “I got back with him.”

“He's a great big bag of dicks,” Caroline protested.

“I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?” She put down her coffee and got up to pace. “You've got to realize how bad an idea this is.”

“He agreed to work on things with me.” Luke tucked his feet up, curling himself into a ball.

“He dumped you like garbage after being creepy and secretive and I'm running out of adjectives.”

“I know you think I can't be trusted to make my relationship decisions, but—”

“This is only making me more sure of that!” Caroline plopped on the couch next to him and took his hands in hers, fingernails digging gently into his knuckles. “You keep getting yourself into these toxic situations with guys who don't give a shit about your well being and you can't even tell.”

“He cares, Caroline,” Luke said firmly.

“I don't trust your judgement on that.”

“He's different. He's more like Alex was than like the others. More screwed up than Alex, but that same kind of screwed up.”

Caroline sighed and shook her head, her long hair brushing over their hands. “ _Promise me_ you will keep me informed about how things are going with him and tell me the truth.”

“I promise,” Luke agreed firmly.

“And if I tell you he's gotta go, you'll end it?”

Luke ducked his head and didn't say anything.

“Luke,” Caroline pleaded.

“I promise,” he whispered.

She hugged him. “You have no fucking clue how much I worry about you, you sonofabitch.”

“I love you too,” he mumbled.

Venus jumped up on the couch with them, rubbed up against Caroline, and purred. She petted her. “Venus, if this Matt jerk hurts your person, claw him to shreds for me, okay?”

Venus meowed.

“Caroline, don't encourage my cat to murder.”

“She and I will kill in your defense if we have to. V's just got the advantage of not being legally accountable for her actions.”

 

~*~

 

Matt couldn't wait until Sunday to go to church. He went Saturday, found his way to Father Lantom's office, and rapped softly at the doorframe. “Do you have a minute?”

At his desk, the priest didn't stop writing. “Are you here for confession?”

“Actually, no. Figure I'll spare us both the repetition. I don't think God'll mind too much if I pretend to be Lutheran for a week and cut the middle man out of the whole penance thing. No offense.”

“None taken.” Father Lantom set down his pen. “What is it, then?”

“I need….guidance,” Matt said softly. He stepped in, carefully shut the office door, and took the seat on the other side of Father Lantom's desk. “You remember I was, uh, seeing someone for a while there?”

“The one with the cat, yes,” Father Lantom confirmed. “For four months.”

“Yeah.” Matt laced his fingers and ducked his head. “He's back. He just showed up at the office. Didn't know I worked there, he was doing legal research, but he recognized me. We had an argument—which my assistant moderated, it was a little strange—but then we had dinner, and now I think we're dating.” He let out a breath, a little shocked at the words coming out of his mouth.

“Alright,” Father Lantom said placidly.

“I tried to explain to him, and to my friends, that it's not appropriate for us, for two men, to…. None of them see the problem.”

“Well, as you've mentioned before, none of your friends are particularly religious.”

“They even said, though, that they think Luke showing back up is God trying to say I should be with him.”

“Do you not want to be with him?”

“Well, no, I don't not want—I don't want to go to hell.”

“Matthew, let's be realistic. If you're going to hell it'll be the other things you do at night, not whatever you do with your boyfriend, that'll put you there.”

Matt sighed. “I'm not so sure—”

“Let me tell you a secret: They teach a lot of really interesting things in seminary that it seems like most every preacher, pastor, and priest in this country goes and washes out of their brains the moment they graduate. One of those things, which I think makes a good argument for having quit once we got the whole thing into Latin, is that there are a whole bunch of translation errors and things that just plain don't translate. The languages most of the Bible was originally written in—Ancient Greek, Hebrew, other forms of Aramaic—do not have words for homosexual at all. Every passage in the bible condemning homosexual behavior is a mistranslation. The word that's usually in the original text, we don't know exactly what it means but it's more likely something about men who hire underaged male prostitutes.” Father Lantom shrugged. “In any case, God's will is strange. People die, people hurt, people fall in love, and it's beyond us to understand why. Your friends could well be right. If you're making yourself and everyone around you miserable trying to resist, that might be a sign you ought to give in. If it's an abomination before god, oh well, so's shaving and eating shrimp—all according to laws of cleanliness that Christ died, in part, for us to not have to adhere to.

“In short, Matthew, if you love him, don't ruin it by getting too worked up over an arbitrary translation and a bunch of bigots.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, stunned. “What about Sarah?”

“Sarah Whitman?” Father Lantom sighed and shook his head. “It was her parents' choice to disown her, not mine. They asked me to pray for her, so I did—I prayed for her to find _her_ way, if you'll remember. The church's official stances are such that I didn't have room to intervene, nor would it have been my place, but Sarah is a good hearted young lady and I'm sorry to see her pushed out like that.”

“So, it's okay?” Matt asked in disbelief.

“I think God would rather his children love each other than hate themselves,” Father Lantom said.


	5. Chapter 5

Monday morning was busy at the office, but it slowed after lunch. No one had been in or out for a while when the main door opened, someone came in, and Karen asked, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yeah,” a female voice said brightly. “I'm looking for Matthew Murdock?”

“Okay. He's in his office,” Karen said. “Can I ask your business?”

“I just need to talk to him for a second. My name's Caroline. I'm a friend of Luke's.”

“Oh. Okay. Matt?” Karen called.

“I heard,” Matt responded. He took off the earpiece for his screenreader. “Come on in.”

Caroline stepped into Matt's office, her shoes clicking solidly on the floor. “Do you mind if I close the door?”

“If you'd like to,” Matt said diplomatically. While she did, Matt took stock of her. She was tall—taller than him in the shoes he could tell by her gait were heels. Her hair was long and swung as she moved. Bracelets jangled quietly on her wrists. She had the same sawdust smell to her as Luke, but with it was something vaguely floral, coffee, vanilla, chocolate, and the wax and lanolin scent of lipstick. Her fingernails ticked ominously on his desk when she put her hands down to lean on it. She leaned in far enough that he could feel the air stir with her breath. Matt didn't move. “You're in my personal space.”

“Uh-huh,” Caroline agreed sharply. “Half my friend group's blind as Kentucky cave shrimp, this is the best way to make sure you know I'm staring at you.”

“What do you want?”

“If you break my best friend's heart again, I will change my name to Karma and come bite you in the ass.”

“Word of legal advice: it's not a good idea to threaten a lawyer.”

“I don't care.” Caroline's heartbeat was steady. “I love Luke, he's my best friend, but bless him he's got a knack for falling for emotionally constipated, abusive douchebags. I can't trust him to make smart choices about guys for himself but I'm more than willing to do it for him. If you hurt him—physically, psychologically, or emotionally—or don't hurry up and start treating him a whole hell of a lot better than you have been, you twatwaffle—you will find out what it's like to have a harpy set upon you.” She straightened up. “I _really_ don't want things to come to that, though, I don't want him to be hurt at all, so you best do right by him. He deserves nothing but the best from you.”

With a swish of her hair, she strode to the door, pulled it open, and breezed from the office. Once the front door had clicked closed, Foggy asked, “What was that all about?”

“That,” Matt sighed as he stood up from his desk, “was Luke's best friend promising me misery if she decides I'm doing him wrong.”

“Sounds like a good friend,” Karen concluded.

 

~*~

 

Matt awkwardly patted his client's mother on the back as she hugged him, crying. Then the grandmother glommed onto him as well, knocking his glasses askew. "Gracias, Señor Murdock. Gracias."

He politely extricated himself, the women hugged Foggy, then the sixteen year old dumbass Matt and Foggy had just gotten off on federal drug charges.

"You did good," Karen said falling into step between Matt and Foggy as they left the courtroom.

"Yeah, well," Foggy dismissed proudly, "it's our job."

"Mhm," Matt hummed. "Now which of you told Luke he could observe the trial?" he accused coolly.

"I did," Foggy copped just as Luke and his escort—Caroline, judging by the tacking of her high heels—caught up to them.

"Hey," Luke said, tripping slightly on the dip in the hallway floor Matt avoided by second nature.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tallwater," Matt replied crisply.

"Right, you're at work...," Luke mumbled to himself.

Caroline made a derisive sound in her throat. "Come _on._ "

"Miss, uh, Caroline I never did get your last name," Foggy said smoothly.

"Bridges," Caroline provided sharply.

"Miss Bridges," Foggy continued, "due to the nature of our profession, we do have to maintain some distance between our private and working lives. That said, we just won and we didn't really eat lunch earlier. Why don't the two of you join us for some celebratory Italian food?"

"I'd like that," Luke said.

"Forlini's?" Karen suggested.

"That is the nearest Italian place." Foggy fished a cough drop wrapper out of his pocket and tossed it in a trash can as they passed it on their way out of the courthouse.

Matt sighed. "Guess we're all going to Forlini's."

Caroline tossed her hair—her earrings jangled.

"The fifth step down is taller than the rest," Matt said for Luke's benefit. He heard Caroline loop her arm through Luke's as he carefully navigated the sweeping stairs out front of the courthouse. After a walk of barely a block to the north, the five of them filed into Forlini's Italian, the little restaurant filled, as usual, with judges, attorneys, and jury members either talking about their cases or carefully not talking about their cases.

Foggy got them on the list—it was going to be a bit of a wait. "And Joe," Foggy said to the usual host, "couple Braille menus?"

"Of course."

Matt leaned on the wall. Luke leaned next to him and felt for his hand. Matt brushed him away.

"Oh, come on," Caroline said sharply. "The only people paying attention already know you fellas have fricked."

Matt grit his teeth. Luke sighed and chided, "Caroline, be nice."

"Him first."

Matt ducked his head. Karen patted his elbow casually. "Caroline," she said, "we haven't really been introduced. I'm Karen. This is Foggy—" she gestured.

"Luke's mentioned you," Caroline said pleasantly, her vitriol suddenly absent. Matt hunched farther.

Luke leaned toward him a little and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize to him." Caroline tossed her hair, vitriol back in full force.

"Why are you here?" Matt snapped.

"I wasn't about to let Luke wander around the courthouse alone," she shot back.

"Can you two please not?" Luke pleaded.

Joe, the host, interrupted the squabble to lead them to their table. Luke looped his arm through Caroline's as they walked and hissed to her too quiet for anyone else but Matt to hear, "You think he's a twatwaffle, I know, and you're kinda right, but he's my twatwaffle, okay? And since I'm actively trying to keep this relationship from going to hell in a fast car, I'm not going to do to him what I did to Alex. If he's not comfortable being open right now, it's okay. I'll deal."

She made a sound of displeasure but didn't object. They were seated at a round table, Matt next to Luke next to Caroline next to Karen next to Foggy next to Matt. Under the table, Luke pressed his foot to Matt's. Matt allowed it.

“What's good here?” Caroline asked crisply.

“Pretty much everything,” Foggy said brightly. After they'd gotten their drinks and ordered, Foggy lifted his diet Pepsi, ice tinkling. “To a case well won—so we don't have to worry about it anymore.”

Karen laughed and raised her glass. Matt couldn't help but chuckle a little, playing along with Foggy's antics. Caroline and Luke followed suit, raising their own glasses. After taking a sip, Caroline asked, “So, what was that kid on trial for? Didn't quite catch it.”

“Possession with intent to distribute,” Foggy provided.

“Did he do it?”

“Well, he did have an insane amount of drugs in his room,” Foggy shrugged, “but he said they were his roommate's. And Matt believed him. Matt's got this thing about only defending people we actually think are innocent. Not the best plan for our wallets but it's better for his conscience.”

Caroline half laughed. “Which I'm sure needs all the help it can get.”

“Well, he's Catholic so...” Foggy trailed off dramatically then finished emphatically, “yes.”

Karen and Luke both giggled. Matt glowered. Foggy punched his shoulder gently. “C'mon, man. You know I'm just giving you shit.”

Matt huffed. “Okay, to be fair, even my priest cracks jokes about the special place in hell for lawyers.”

Luke half choked on his soda from trying to laugh and drink at the same time.

“Is that in circle eight for fraud,” Caroline asked cooly while she patted Luke's back, “or nine for treachery?”

“You do know Dante's Inferno isn't actually church doctrine, right?” Matt countered. He was relieved to not hear liquid in Luke's lungs.

“Hypothetically though, I'd think we'd get our own sub level between eight and nine,” Foggy said.

Karen leaned on the table. “I was under the impression that whatever the worst thing you'd done was, that's where you go. So if you're guilty of fraud _and_ treachery, you get circle nine for the treachery since that's worse.”

“Unless you're pagan,” Luke said brightly. “I just have to wander some caves for eternity with people like Plato and Cleopatra. I'm not too fussed about that.”

Matt sighed. Their food arrived the next moment, derailing the conversation before it could derail itself. Partway through the meal, as Karen dabbed at her dress with her napkin again, she said, “Is it bad that I'm still super impressed by watching you guys eat? I mean, here I am getting pasta sauce all over myself, and you two are fine. If I woke up blind tomorrow morning, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead of a self-inflicted fork stab to the face before the end of the day.”

“I've done that,” Matt said. “Mostly right after. I'm sure you'd survive.”

“I was young enough that I still considered most everything fingerfood around the time I lost my sight.” Luke shrugged. “Then again, I seem to consider most everything fingerfood even now.” He wigged the fingers of his left hand, which had gathered a fair amount of pasta sauce and cheese in the process of locating his meatballs.

Foggy chuckled. “Hey, that's what napkins are for.”

“True.” Luke took a bite. “Hey, by the way, if I get arrested next weekend could you represent me in court or is that not allowed since you, y'know, know me.”

“Legally allowed but highly unethical and ill-advised,” Matt answered automatically. “ _Why_ would you be getting arrested?”

“Going to an anti-hatecrime rally,” Luke chirped. “First Amendment says we _shouldn't_ be in danger of getting arrested, but we all saw what happened to Occupy.”

“One thing we _could_ do, though,” Foggy said, “is hang out and politely remind any uppity cops that the right to peaceful protest is constitutionally protected.”

“That we could,” Matt agreed.

“Would you?” Luke asked hopefully.

Matt shrugged. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” The smile was loud in Luke's voice.

“Okay, he might not be a hundred and ten percent shit,” Caroline muttered grudgingly.

Luke elbowed her and reached for her drink.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt met up with Foggy outside his building just after five in the morning to walk to the park for the rally. “Oh, you brought coffee,” Matt said appreciatively with a deep breath as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Yup,” Foggy confirmed and handed one of the coffees to Matt. “I'm the best, I know.”

“You really are.” Matt sipped his coffee as they headed toward the center of the city.

“How'd you sleep?”

“Four hour nap after yesterday's docket, then nothing.”

“Jeeze, Matt.”

“I'm fine. I have coffee.” Matt smirked. Foggy sighed.

Once at Central Park, they made their way to the foot bridge the rally was gathering at. Matt heard Caroline's voice point them out, then Luke and an unfamiliar set of footsteps came up to them. “Hey, morning!” Luke greeted. His fingers found Foggy's sleeve first. Foggy clapped his shoulder then nudged him toward Matt. “Thanks,” Luke said quickly to Foggy, then he hugged Matt and whispered, “Is it okay if I introduce you to my friends as my boyfriend?”

Matt hesitated a breath, rubbed Luke's back and said, “Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.” He gave Matt a quick kiss on the cheek then stepped away. “Malcolm!,” he called to the person who'd walked up with him. “This is my boyfriend, Matt and his law partner, Foggy—they're our precaution against getting arrested.”

“Sweet,” a deep voice that was presumably Malcolm's said. “Not getting arrested sounds like a good plan.”

“Not getting arrested is _always_ a good plan,” Foggy confirmed.

“C'mon over here,” Luke said, and led the way over to the larger group.

“You made it,” Caroline noted coolly as Matt and Foggy drew near. She smelled like fabric paint—there was probably a slogan on her shirt.

“That we did,” Matt said.

“Uh,” Foggy said, “just to be safe, maybe don't block the bridge? You can line it, but if you're blocking the path that could conceivably be turned into an excuse to remove you.”

“Okay then.” Caroline cracked her knuckles and went off yelling instructions to keep the path clear, “Because, I don't know about you, but I can't afford bail.”

Luke gave a fond sigh. “Drama queen. Hey, Foggy, you see a guy about Matt's height with a bandana tied across his eyes? Oughta be blond unless he dyed his hair again.”

“Yeah,” Foggy said, craning to look around.

“Which way?”

Foggy turned Luke by the shoulders. “That way.”

“Yo, Andre!” Luke called.

“What?” another voice called back.

“Get over here!”

“You're showing us off, aren't you?” Matt sighed.

“Of course,” Luke said proudly.

Two people wove through the crowd to them, a man and a woman, talking together as they walked.

“Hey, Luke,” the woman said, multiple belts jangling.

“Hey, Wednesday.” Luke sounded surprised. “I didn't know you were coming. Wait. Please don't tell me the two of you are dating again.”

“We're not,” the man, Andre, said quickly. “Definitely not.”

“We have learned our lesson,” Wednesday said.

“Thank god...” Luke muttered. “Anyway. Andre, Wednesday, this is my boyfriend, Matt, and his law partner, Foggy. Matt, Foggy, this is my friend Andre and his crazy ex girlfriend Wednesday, whom we all love very much but are a more than a little bit scared of.”

Wednesday giggled creepily as handshakes went around.

“So, you actually exist,” Andre said to Matt. “Was starting to think Luke was making you up.”

Foggy laughed. Matt elbowed him and said, “No, no. I'm real.”

“Real cute,” Wednesday added. Matt bowed his head, half flattered, half embarrassed.

“Can I ask about the bandana?” Foggy said.

Andre said, “Sure,” and the same time Luke said, “You don't want to.”

“He doesn't have eyes,” Wednesday explained simply.

“Oh.” Foggy cleared his throat.

Andre laughed. “I have a little too much fun freaking people out.”

Matt and Foggy eventually got installed in a pair of lawn chairs near the end of the footbridge with a poster board sign propped up between them saying: Dear NYPD, Peaceful Protest is a Protected Right. Another friend of Luke's—a tiny young woman named Haley—was standing near them, handing out buttons to passers-by.

“Haley?” Matt asked, a thought striking him.

“Yeah?”

“Why is there a rally here?”

“You don't know?” she asked, sounding almost offended.

“Give them a break,” Luke said, coming up from across the bridge. “They're lawyers, they're busy, they don't spend hours on the social justice side of tumblr like you do.” He handed Matt and Foggy each a cookie. “A couple weeks ago some boys were picking on a transgirl who was taking pictures on this bridge. Things got out of hand and they accidentally pushed her off. She survived the fall but she's in the hospital and will be for a while.”

“So, anti-hatecrime rally,” Haley concluded. “The people with donation buckets are raising money for her medical bills.”

“Damn,” Foggy said.

A little while later, Matt heard familiar footsteps coming up the path. They came closer, and Father Lantom's voice said, “Good morning, Matthew.”

“Good morning, Father,” Matt replied, standing up from his lawn chair.

“What's all this?”

“Rally against hatecrime,” Haley supplied, holding out a button.

The button rattled as Father Lantom took it from her. “'Love, don't hate,'” he read. “Good words to live by.”

“We're here as a precaution against overzealous cops,” Matt explained. “Oh, and this is my partner, Foggy Nelson.”

“Hey,” Foggy said from his seat.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nelson,” Farther Lantom said. “I expect I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Matthew?”

“Of course, Father,” Matt confirmed.

“Tomorrow then,” Father Lantom said and walked off, pinning the button to his coat.

Once Father Lantom was well away, Luke asked, “So that was your priest?”

“Yeah.”

“And you introduced Foggy and not me.”

“Um.”

“To be fair,” Foggy said, “it's his _Catholic priest_.”

Luke grumbled something under his breath in Japanese and Haley quickly moved away from the sphere of awkward to press buttons on some dog walkers.

“No, he's right,” Matt said to Foggy. Then, to Luke, “I'm sorry.”

Fore a second, Luke didn't respond. Then he hugged Matt. “You're getting better at not being an asshole. You're not great, but you're getting better.”


	7. Chapter 7

After the rally, Matt, Foggy, Luke, Caroline, Andre, Wednesday, Malcolm, and Haley all went for lunch. Matt felt like an outsider. Foggy didn't seem to be having the same problem. “So, Wednesday, which came first, the name or the Addams' Family values.”

She giggled. “I'm creepy, so people call me Wednesday.”

“Her name's really Allison,” Andre said through a mouth full of french fries. She smacked his arm.

“Andre went to high school with me and Caroline,” Luke said.

“They were two of my five senior prom dates,” Caroline said proudly, prompting laughter.

“The rest of us know each other from theatre,” Haley said.

“Except for Mina,” Malcolm corrected from the other end of the table.

“Who's Mina?” Foggy asked.

“She and I both provide tutoring and Braille lessons through the New York Institute for Special Education,” Luke explained. “She would have been at the rally today, but isn't she sick?”

“Bronchitis,” Andre confirmed.

“She's cool,” Malcolm said.

“You know, Matt,” Foggy said slowly, “I think I just realized that you don't have any blind friends.”

“Foggy, including you and Karen,” Matt said, “I have two friends, period.”

“And me,” Luke said indignantly.

“Strictly platonic friends,” Matt amended.

“Hey, I volunteer as tribute if I can lord having a lawyer as a buddy over asshole bodega clerks,” Andre said.

Matt grinned despite himself. “Only if the clerk is actually doing something illegal.”

“Deal,” Andre laughed.

 

After lunch as they all filed out onto the sidewalk, Luke caught Matt's hand. “Walk me home?”

Caroline took a breath to say something but Wednesday distracted her with an arm around her shoulders and demands for a girls' night. Matt squeezed Luke's hand then dropped it. “Yeah I can walk you home.”

“Thanks.” Luke looped his arm through Matt's instead—a much harder gesture for Matt to casually extricate himself from. He didn't try.

When they got to Luke's apartment, Venus yowled. She sniffed at Matt while he and Luke set down their things, and she made a decidedly displeased sound. Luke knelt, held out a hand for her to headbutt, then scooped her up once she did. “Oh, don't grumble at Matt,” he said to Venus. “I should start having you give her cheese when your over—maybe she'd start liking you again.”

“Cats can eat cheese?” Matt asked, surprised.

“Most cats like cheese,” Luke said. He let Venus clamber from his shoulder to her cat tower in the corner. “It gives some cats diarrhea, though.”

“But not Venus?”

“Not Venus,” Luke confirmed. He found Matt's hand and pulled him onto the couch with him. “Thanks for coming today,” he said, leaning on Matt's shoulder.

“It wasn't any trouble,” Matt said. “There didn't even turn out to be any upity cops for me and Foggy to tell off.”

“Course not.” Luke grinned. “We were prepared for things to go bad so they went fine. If you hadn't been there we'd all be in jail by now. That's how things work, right?”

Matt sighed. “Seems like it, yeah.”

Luke leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I love you.” Matt nuzzled his hair but didn't say anything. Luke chewed his lip. “That's not the first time I've said that.”

“No,” Matt said slowly, “it's not.”

“You've never said anything back.”

“Didn't really have a chance the first time.”

“You had a chance now.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Pretty sure the standard response is 'I love you, too.'”

“Luke,” Matt sighed.

“At least, do you not say it because you don't feel it, or because it's hard for you to admit that you do?”

Matt leaded his head back on the edge of the couch. He took a breath. “It's hard for me.”

“I can work with that.” He laced their fingers, lifted Matt's hand, and kissed the back of it. “You gotta go do stuff, or do you have time to screw around?”

Matt hummed. “Technically, I'm free until tomorrow morning.”

“Church?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” Luke clambered into Matt's lap, pulled his tie out from being tucked into his jacket, and ran the slick fabric through his fingers, “I'm free until six, but then I have to go be a Puritan.”

“You'd make a horrible Puritan,” Matt chuckled.

“That's why it's called acting.” Luke kissed him. As usual, the margin between Luke ending up in Matt's lap and their clothes winding up on the floor was small. Afterward, Luke tucked his face comfortably against Matt's bare chest. For a moment he just listened to the both of them breathe. “What's this like for you?”

“Hm?”

“You and your super senses.” Luke smiled against Matt's skin. “How's this for you?”

Matt readjusted his arms around Luke. “You mean what all I see right now, for lack of a better word?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he combed his fingers through Luke's hair, “I can smell your sandalwood soap, your skin, sweat—both yours and mine, and, uh, other things of ours.” Luke chuckled; Matt smiled into his hair. “I can feel you breathing, hear your heartbeat. When you move, I can feel your bones shift against each other.” He ran a hand over Luke's arm. “I can feel every little hair on your body, how your skin heats up when you flush, like just now.”

“Oh no.” Luke hid in his hands.

“You're blushing harder,” Matt laughed.

Luke laughed too and cuddled him. He listened to them breathe again, then, “Hey, can I go to church with you tomorrow?”

Matt stopped breathing for a second—then he inhaled sharply. “ _What?_ ” he asked bewilderedly.

“Can I go to church with you tomorrow?” Luke repeated.

“Why?” Matt half sat up.

Luke shrugged and shifted to lay across part of Matt that was more horizontal. “I want to.”

“I mean, I guess?”

“I won't go if you don't want me to,” Luke said quietly.

“It's not—I don't—I just don't understand why you you'd want to.”

“It's important to you.” Luke sat up. “I'd kinda like to _actually_ meet your priest. And I kinda like ceremonial stuff regardless of culture.”

“Then,” Matt sighed and probably shrugged, “sure. Just—oh, you are not going to like what I'm about to say.”

“Don't act all gay at church?”

“Pretty much.” Matt's voice was tight.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That's it? _Okay_?”

Luke shrugged. “I am nowhere near enough of a dick to out you to your entire church.”

“Thank you,” Matt said genuinely, still sounding a little bit stunned.

“Of course.” Luke kissed him. “I should get cleaned up so I can go say a few lines then die a horrible death offstage.”

“Okay,” Matt chuckled incredulously.


	8. Chapter 8

Matt got up early on Sunday and met Luke outside of Luke's building before church. The smell of greasepaint lingered on him from the play the night before, though it was nearly overwhelmed by soap, coffee, and dry cleaning chemicals.

“Are you wearing a suit?” Matt asked, touching Luke's sleeve. It was a herringbone weave.

“Mhm.” Luke looped his arm through Matt's. “I can, in fact, clean up nice.” He fell into step with Matt as Matt lead the way, cane tapping. “How'd you know though?”

“You smell like a dry cleaner's.”

“Ah.” Luke half laughed. “Should have known.”

 

Once they got there, Luke let Matt lead him up the front steps, into the relative warmth of the church, and to a seat.

“Oh, Matthew!” an excited woman's voice said from the pew in front of them, “you brought a friend.”

“Yes, I did,” Matt said simply.

Luke smiled in the direction of the voice and waved. “Hi.”

“Are you converting?” the woman asked expectantly.

“Uh, no.”

“Then what brings you here?” She kept her tone pleasant, but didn't quite manage to mask the hint of bewilderment and disappointment in her voice.

Luke patted Matt's shoulder casually. “I just like to make an effort to support things that are important to my friends and loved ones.”

“Well, that's very kind of you,” she said, then stopped talking to them.

Matt lightly kicked Luke's foot. Luke grinned. Luke followed along with the service with helpful prodding from Matt for when to stand, sit, kneel, stand, sit, kneel, stand sit… At the end of mass, Luke mumbled quietly, “It's really no wonder you're ripped. Who needs the gym when you're doing pilates for Jesus?”

Matt cuffed his shoulder. “I'll be back, okay?”

“Confession?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll wait here.” He thought but didn't say, _while you tell your priest about our sex life_.

Luke listened to Matt's retreating footsteps until he couldn't pick them out of the quiet clamor of everyone else gathering their coats, leaving or queuing for confession themselves, praying, and gossiping.

“Hi, excuse me,” a woman's voice asked. It was a different woman than before, younger, but with the same bright, expectant tone. “I think I saw you come in with Matthew?”

“Yeah,” Luke said. He was leaning against a wall, fiddling with his folded up cane. “I'm here with Matt.”

“That's nice. It's good to see him with a friend. He hardly every talks to anyone here.” She lowered her voice. “We worry about him.”

Luke internally stamped down his irritation at the conspiratorially condescending way she'd said that. “He's not real talkative.”

“I guess not.” She laughed politely. “Oh, Linda!” she called to a passing pair of high-heeled footsteps. “This is Matthew's friend, um, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name.”

“Luke,” Luke said crisply.

“A pleasure to meet you, Luke,” Linda said. “Are you blind too?”

“Yup.” He briefly pushed up his sun glasses.

“You have such beautiful eyes, though,” the woman who wasn't Linda said.

“So I've heard.” Luke tapped his heel against the wall behind him. He wondered just how long it took someone like Matt to confess all the sins he'd committed over the course of a week.

“Linda, Kristy,” a third woman said, joining them. “Who's this?”

“Matthew's friend Luke,” Linda said.

“Oh, how nice,” the third woman said. “Are you converting?”

“You know, you're not the first person to ask me that today.”

“Amy, how do we know he's not already Catholic?” the first woman, Kristy, said. “He might just usually go to a different church.”

“No. I'm not Catholic.”

“What denomination then?” Linda asked. “Lutheran?”

“Nope.”

“Baptist?” Amy asked, sounding wary.

“Not actually Christian.” He twisted his cane's wrist strap between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh,” Kristy breathed. Amy took a small step back away from him.

“What are you then?” Linda asked, confused. “Jewish?”

Luke laughed shortly. “No. Definitely not Jewish. Not Muslim either. I was raised Shinto.”

“I've heard of that,” Kristy said. “It's Japanese, isn't it?”

“Yeah. I'm half Japanese and my grandparents live in Osaka right across from a shrine so I was raised in it. I think I have a cousin who at least used to be a miko—a shrine maiden.”

“Is that like an alter boy?” Amy asked suspiciously.

“Uh, sure,” Luke said.

“Do you speak Japanese?” Kristy asked.

“ _Hai_ ,” Luke began in his mother's language. “ _Anata wa sōde wa arimasen, boku ga hanashite iru koto wa jūyōde wa arimasen._ _Anata wa hontōni shigeki-sei to osekkaidesu. Sō ieba, boku wa gei desu. Boku wa boku no kareshi to issho ni koko ni imasu. Umaku ikeba,_ _boku_ _tachi wa kore no nochi ni fakku iku tsumoridesu._ ”

“Luke?” Matt said from a ways off to his right.

“I'm here,” Luke responded. The three women nearly tripped over themselves clearing a path between the two blind men.

Matt touched Luke's elbow as he came up next to him. “Father Lantom is busy just now, you'll have to meet him some other time,” he said apologetically. “If you'll excuse us,” he added to Kristy, Amy, and Linda the gossiping biddies. Luke quickly unfolded his cane and let Matt lead him out of the church. Outside in the warmth of the late morning sun, Matt asked, “What were you saying to them in Japanese?”

Luke shrugged. “Nothing really, just that they're obnoxious and nosy and I'm hella gay. Don't worry, I'm sure none of them understood a single word.”

“You're ridiculous,” Matt chuckled.

“I am,” Luke agreed. He looped his arm through Matt's. “Let's get brunch somewhere.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

In a diner not far from their apartments, Matt swallowed a mouthful of egg and asked, “Wait, there are _how many_ words for 'I' in Japanese?”

“Five. If we're only counting ones in common modern usage that don't really also mean anything else,” Luke said casually around bites of waffle.

“And if we're counting the others?”

“Uh, like sixteen, I think.”

“Why on earth do you need sixteen ways to say I?” Matt asked. He was having trouble wrapping his head around more than maybe a formal/informal distinction.

“They all have different connotations,” Luke explained. “There's only like seven or eight you every really hear.”

“ _Only_ seven or eight,” Matt said almost mockingly as he reached for his orange juice.

Luke laughed. “Let's stick with the main five. There's watakushi, which is crazy formal. I don't think I've ever heard it used in real life not, like, by someone being all official on TV. Then there's watashi, which is pretty standard, non-gendered, but it is kinda formal so it ends up sounding girly in casual situations. Atashi is the same as watashi except informal and really girly and cutesy. Guys do not call themselves atashi. Well,” he paused and made a sound in his throat, “straight guys definitely don't, some really _really_ effeminate gay guys might but I've never met any who do, crossdressers sometimes do when they're crossdressing. Then there's boku, which is what I use most of the time. It's informal—so for formal situations I switch to watashi, but pretty much everybody does that—and it's masculine, but not super masculine. Some girls use it, tomboys pretty much. Lastly there's ore, which is super masculine. It's like saying, 'me, the tough guy.' It is not polite at all, but it's also not rude, it's just _really_ casual.”

“Okay.” Matt rubbed his temple and shook his head, laughing a little. “I think I followed that.”

“It's kind of a lot,” Luke admitted. He felt for Matt's plate and stole a piece of bacon. Matt pretended, for appearances' sake, not to notice.

“What do you think I'd use?” he asked curiously.

“I mean,” Luke said as he munched bacon, “people use different ones in different situations. Real talk, if you were to learn Japanese now you'd end up using watashi most of the time because it gets taught as the default. If we wanna imagine if you'd grown up speaking Japanese, you'd probably use boku most of the time like me.” He chuckled a little. “You're too prim to be the kind of guy who habitually uses ore, but I think you might sometimes, like, you know, at night. At work you'd use watashi. Actually _in_ court you might, _might_ , use watakushi, I'm not sure. I don't know enough about the legal system in either country to be a hundred percent on that.”

“Fair enough.” Matt stabbed at and stole a bite of waffle from Luke's plate.

Luke snorted. “If you want some waffle you can just ask.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Matt asked, grinning. Luke kicked his shin under the table, then sighed.

“I hate to leave, but I should go,” Luke said. “Sunday matinee show at two.”

Matt flipped the glass up from the face of his watch and touched the hands. “It's twelve-twenty.”

“Yeah.” Luke wadded up his napkin. “I should swing by home, check on my kitty, get my shit, and go to the theatre.” He got up. “You should come, if you want. Foggy and Karen are welcome too, of course.”

“You know, I think I will,” Matt said. They'd already paid, but Matt pulled out his wallet to leave a few dollars as a tip.

Luke leaned up to kiss his cheek quickly. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my experience with Japanese is one semester in middle school, Google did most of the work translating what Luke says in church, so if your Japanese is better than mine you are more than welcome to suggest edits.  
> What he says is roughly: "Yes. You don't, so it doesn't matter what I'm saying.You're really irritating and nosy. By the way, I'm gay. I'm here with my boyfriend. Hopefully, we're going to go fuck after this."


	9. Chapter 9

After he and Luke parted ways, Matt leaned on a bench and called Foggy. After a few rings, he picked up. “Hey, Matt,” Foggy said groggily. “What's up?”

“Hey, you want to go to a play?” Matt asked.

“Um. Sorry, I kinda just woke up—what?”

“Luke is in a play. There's a show today at two,” Matt explained. “Do you want to go?”

“Uh, sure,” Foggy said. “Gonna call Karen too?”

“That's the plan.”

“Cool. So, see you at NYU in like an hour?”

“Yup.”

“Awesome. See ya, buddy.”

They hung up and Matt dialed Karen. She picked up quickly, sounding out of breath, “Hello?”

“Hi, Karen.”

“Oh, hey, Matt.” She took a breath. “What's up?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to come see a play?”

“Luke asked you to come to something he's in, didn't he?”

“Yes,” Matt said carefully.

“And you're too awkward to go to your boyfriend's play alone.”

“He invited you—and Foggy,” Matt said defensively.

“Of course he did,” Karen said, her eye rolling audible. “When is it?”

“At two.”

“Then I better run home and shower—I went jogging. I assume it's at NYU?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I'll be there. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“You should buy him some fucking flowers.” She hung up. Matt sighed.

 

Around one thirty, Matt and Foggy met up outside the theatre.

“What's—” Foggy started to ask, then changed course mid question. “Did you bring flowers?”

“Yeah….” Matt awkwardly fingered the plastic-wrapped bouquet. “Karen told me to. I didn't really want to face her wrath if I didn't.”

“Fair enough. So she is coming?”

“She's about to turn the corner behind me.”

Foggy looked past Matt just as Karen rounded the corner. He raised a hand to wave and muttered, “You're creepy as fuck, you know that?”

Matt smirked. Foggy punched his shoulder. Karen drew close enough to call, “Hey, guys! Oh good, you got flowers.”

“I did,” Matt said.

“They're lovely.” She looped her arms through the guys'. “Tickets?”

“On sale inside,” Matt said.

Despite not being there particularly early, they were able to get seats just a couple rows back from the front. Karen flipped through her program. “My high school did _The Crucible_.”

“So did mine,” Foggy said.

“Mine almost did,” Matt sighed. “But someone's parents got weird about it.”

Karen and Foggy turned to him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I really don't know—maybe it was too protestant for them? Not that that's even what it's about….”

“People are weird,” Foggy concluded.

“Yup,” Matt agreed as Karen nodded.

The faint buzz of the house lights got louder then stopped as they dimmed and went out. The chatter in the audience stopped which made it all but impossible for Matt not to hear to rustling and whispering and running about going on backstage and in the wings, even has the house manager came out and began her spiel. Tiptoe steps sprinted across back stage. Someone cracked their knuckles and murmured, “Let's do this.”

“Honey, your bonnet's crooked,” followed by the _fwish_ of a bow being untied.

Then footsteps Matt knew and Caroline's voice in the wings, very low, “If your boyfriend's not here, do I get to kill him?”

Luke sighed. “Maim or seriously injure, never kill.”

A stage manager shushed them. The house manager concluded her address to the audience and left the stage, the curtain opened with a great woosh and faint squeak of pulleys, an actress screamed, and the play began.

After the play, various family and friends gathered in the hallway to wait for the meet and greet. Foggy tossed the packaging of the gummy bears he'd bought during intermission in the trash. Karen made a sound of excitement and darted between a couple strangers. She returned a moment later with Luke and Caroline in tow.

“Luke,” Karen said, giving him a little nudge, “Matt brought you flowers.”

Matt carefully handed the bouquet over and Luke leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Matt shrugged and cleared his throat. “You deserve it.”

“And Karen ordered him to bring 'em,” Foggy said, then yelped as Matt kicked his ankle.

“Just as I was starting to think you might be starting to suck less,” Caroline said.

“Hey, I just gave him the idea,” Karen defended. “He's the one who actually got them.”

“They're very nice,” Luke said fondly, his face shoved into the flowers. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “Smell good.”

“Luke!” a voice Matt Recognized called. “Caroline!” Haley, one of Luke's friends from the rally, pushed through, guiding another girl by the hand. She let go to hug Luke as Caroline hugged the other girl. “Matt and Foggy, right?” Haley asked. “It's Haley.”

“Yeah, I remember you,” Matt said.

“Good to see you again,” Foggy said.

“Same,” Haley said brightly.

“Hey, I'm Karen. I work with them. You must be a friend of Luke's.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm Mina,” the other girl said, arm around Luke. “I missed the rally, didn't get to meet you, but Luke talks.”

Luke elbowed her. She laughed. He shook his head. “I might tell stories a little bit at work.”

“Try a lot,” Mina teased.

“Hey, are we doing karaoke?” Haley interjected.

“Of course we are,” Caroline said. “It's closing night. We have to go to karaoke. “

Luke grabbed Matt's hand. “You guys should come too.”

Matt took a breath but Karen preempted him. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Let us get this godawful makeup off,” Caroline said, “then we can all go. Andre, Wednesday, and Malcolm are gonna meet us there.”


End file.
